A Moment of Truth

I am me. I am a product of the collective experience of society, a reaction of and towards our environment, a child of a subjective interpretation of reality. I am the result of a perpetually growing organism known as isolation, be it intentional or accidental, physical or emotional, enjoyable or wretched. Poets and literary enthusiasts like to describe solitude as something noble and beautiful but in reality it is what it is, it is a state of disconnection from the active and passive world around you, and while it may feel that way at certain times, it becomes overwhelming during others. It could even be said that constant enjoyment of solitude indicates a possibly unhealthy dose of escapism and self-deceive, but I wouldn't know about that. Perhaps many will agree when I say that it is unwise to allow yourself to linger in it for too long, so long that you begin to lose sight of relative identity and its importance in the sustenance of your ‘self’, so long that it becomes difficult to see any alternative of seeing the world as viable, a period of immeasurable time that I fear I am close to approaching at this stage of my life.

I do not ask for pity or understanding--though I am certain that all people at some point in their lives have experienced at least a sliver, a fraction, a derivation, or even an inflated share of the particular state I have just described--I only wish to say that I am me, and I am here, just as you are.